Humor
From the Journal of Sir Ziggy Newton, September 1687
On a late summer’s day, I was seated beneath the pear tree in my garden, enjoying the shade it provided. It was a delightful afternoon and my thoughts were focused on the beauty of nature. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the freshness of the air. I was nearly dozing when suddenly I was struck on my cranium by a ripe pear!
By Antonella Di Minni5 years ago in Fiction
The End of Grimm's
Breathless, I run down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House. I’m finally going to be an activist with a cause. It's difficult to tell if I am carrying the sign or it's carrying me. The placard is bigger than I am and the wooden stick is hitting the back of my legs as I hustle down the thorofare. I am close to on time, hoping that’s good enough, as I turn the corner towards Lafayette Square. Twitter informed us to converge on this famous piece of real estate and head over to the executive mansion, taking up our individual causes. It would suck to be tardy for my first protest.
By pamela mayer5 years ago in Fiction
Cassie meets Rosemary
It was a beautiful day in the early fall season. The trees are beginning to change colors. The temperature is beginning to cool down, but it's getting close. The wind blows beautifully. The birds and cicadas were singing peacefully. There was a young sorcerer-druid, Cassie, who just went to the market festival for some shopping. The market festival is also celebrated with some fruit trees that have grown in the late summer, including pear trees and apple trees. The lights are twinkling. The confetti was so colorful. Everyone was so cheered and excited. There are also so many booths. Each of the booths has candies, bread, fruits, books, vegetables, jewelry, tools, fudge, nuts, cakes, soaps, boots, clothing/dresses, and flowers.
By Meghan LeVaughn 5 years ago in Fiction
Walrusses vs Walri
"Broke Stick Billy! Let me stop you right there. There is a reason I nicknamed you that, it's because like a broken stick in hockey you can't play. We let you join the league every year because we need to fill a roster spot. I even drafted you this year and gave you a shot. But now you are a traitor and basically dead to me." Mediocre
By Scott McGuire 5 years ago in Fiction
Cheeseburger Romance
Tom sat alone at the tall bar table. His feet dangled from the stool. He fidgeted with the cloth napkin surrounding his silverware. Waiting. Every few seconds his eyes would dart between the entryway, the napkin and his phone. She was running late. Not too late but late enough to let some worry creep into his mind. He felt the eyes of the room closing in on him. He did his best to ignore it but their whispers were getting louder in his head. Look at him. So pathetic. He got stood up. Of course he got stood up, look at him. He’s so sweaty. His pit stains are soaking through his jacket. What a loser.
By Jake Hartline5 years ago in Fiction
The smell of winter.
Somewhere near the edge of a frozen pond... "You look like you’re having a lot of fun skating around on the frozen pond rabbit. Just love those pirouettes. You are so nimble the way you move on the ice, like a real snow fairy. I wish that I could move with such perfect grace.”
By Russell Ormsby 5 years ago in Fiction
Macbeth Demands a Recount
Macbeth, recently defeated and beheaded at the hands of Macduff, duly arrived on the bank of the River Styx to be rowed across to Hades by Charon the ferryman. However, he proved to be a reluctant passenger, not least because he saw no reason to give the infernal boatman his usual fee.
By John Welford5 years ago in Fiction
